To Tell the Truth: The Anna and John Mystery/Suspense Series, #1

By Faye Tollison

Her past had formed what she had become, but was it enough to give her the strength to face the future. The man who came into her life as a result of this story carved  a hole in her heart and planted love there. Murder, drugs, and an undercover cop make up this story. But will a stern courtroom prosecuter win, or will a determined defense lawyer bring out the truth?  You, the reader, must decide for yourself just what the truth is.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Faye Tollison
• Release date: Oct 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9781461082330

Faye Tollison

I am retired and love reading. I've read mysteries all my life and finally decided to write one of my own. I live in the Upstate of South Carolina with my three cats.

Book preview

Chapter 1

MONDAY, APRIL 8, 2002

Oh God, I don't want to go in there. Please, please don't make me.

The wooden bench in the dimly lit hallway on which Anna Kayce sat was terribly uncomfortable. She felt lonely and scared. A tight squeezing knot in the pit of her stomach left her weak and nauseated. She looked up as heavy oak doors opened, revealing a large, high-ceilinged room. The light from the courtroom spread over the floor of the hallway and worked its way up her silky legs, but then a dark form filled the doorway, obliterating the light. She struggled to focus her eyes.

Ms. Kayce, they're ready for you, the bailiff said in a stiff voice.

With jelly-like knees she rose from her seat, walked to the doorway, and stopped as the bailiff moved aside to allow her to enter. Efforts had been made to update the old courthouse, built in the 1950's. However, the original ceiling fans and lights hung from the ceiling. As she stood in the doorway, a slight breeze from the fans twirling above ruffled her long, dark hair. Eyes turn to look at her, scrutinizing her, making her feel ill at ease. With difficulty, she turned her attention toward one person in particular.

Prosecutor Thomas Dean Hawthorne maintained his position at the front of the courtroom, his back to her. He stood tall and straight with broad shoulders that drew attention away from his thinning hair. He only did not turn around at her entrance.

A low murmur drifted through the courtroom as Anna stepped inside the door. She hesitated as her gaze swept around the courtroom, coming to rest on the man in a black robe on the far side of the room.

JUDGE EDWARD COX RESIDED over many court cases in the 27 years he served as a judge, but this was the most famous and exciting one yet. It did not thrill him because he did not like having media in the courtroom much less all these people.  They were thrill seekers, most of them anyway.  He hoped they would not be rowdy, but it was not looking hopeful. A stern scowl darkened his face.

Silence! There'll be quiet in this courtroom! He glared around the room until it became quiet and then nodded his approval.  They obviously knew he meant business.

INQUISITIVE EYES CONTINUED to stare at her, some curious, some with disdain. Most of the people in the room dressed casually; some were dressed in their Sunday best. A mixture of tobacco-scented clothes and sweet perfume permeated the air. Anna turned her gaze to the right side of the room where the jury sat, an even six men and six women. One juror, a young man, smiled at her, then quickly turned his head away, his smile faded as if he had done something he shouldn't. An older woman sat next to him. Her emotionless expression and cold eyes gave Anna an unsettled feeling so Anna quickly moved her gaze on to the next juror. The young woman sitting behind the older lady kept her eyes on the judge, but her glance, as if she were unable to control it, slid to Anna. Unsmiling, she gave a slight nod and turned her attention back to the judge.

They don't understand. They'll never understand...

She's beautiful, someone whispered.

How insecure I felt then ... how insecure I am now.

Yeah, the senator wouldn't have anything but beautiful, another commented. Just a high-priced whore's all she is, beautiful or not.

The fear. Oh, God, the fear!

A burning red crawled up her neck and into her face. She had never felt as alone as she did at this moment. Anna took a deep breath, buttoned the jacket of her red suit and grasped a black glove in her other already gloved hand. It's a sign of breeding, the senator once told her. He always insisted she appear well-bred.

Walk like a lady with your head held high. Someday it will benefit you. His words lingered in her mind. Despite his harsh words at times, he did teach her well.

I hope he's right. Though she felt inadequate to handle what she was about to face, she was able to lift her chin and square her shoulders, eyes held straight ahead of her. I still do my best to please him — always to please him.

Eyes and whispers followed her long walk to the witness stand. The gold embossed King James Version seemed to jump at her as she placed her right hand on the Bible held by the bailiff. She swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

Please tell the court your name, address, and occupation. The prosecutor stared at the papers in his hand before he laid them on the table in front of him and turned his gaze to her.

Anna stared back at him, eyes unwavering, and in a clear, concise voice answered, My name is Anna Marie Kayce, spelled K-a-y-c-e. I live at 348 Taylors Drive, apartment number 208, and I own Uptown Styles, Unlimited.

He cleared his throat. His voice firm, flat, he clarified, A dress shop?

Boutique, yes.

How did you acquire this ... boutique?

With long hours and hard work.

The prosecutor turned for a moment toward the jury, his brows drawn together, his expression indicated deep thought. Then he faced the witness once again.

"Ms. Kayce, have you ever been married?" he asked.

No.

Were you acquainted with Senator Kenneth Levall?

I knew him, yes.

How long had you known him?

I, uh, I'm not sure.

Not sure? Surely you have an idea. His tone of voice was mocking. Just an approximate time that you knew him?

I ... I don't know ... a few years, I guess.

A few years you guess. Ms. Kayce, I think you know very well how long you were acquainted with the senator, but let's go on. Where did you first meet the senator?

Anna dropped her gaze and stared at her hands, acutely aware of the quiet that lay heavy across the room. The silence lengthened as the prosecutor waited for her to answer.

Ms. Kayce, please tell us where you first met the senator. He insisted, obviously losing patience with her.

Anna kept her head lowered, fighting back the tears.

Your Honor, the prosecutor turned to the judge in exasperation, this is obviously a hostile witness. I may have to ask leading questions to get the true story from her.

Anna looked up just as Judge Cox looked at the prosecutor with cold steel gray eyes, his face expressionless. His reputation for being hard, compassionless and demanding harsh restrictions on the media in the courtroom was well known by everyone.

The witness is duly noted for the record to be a hostile witness, Mr. Prosecutor. Proceed with questioning. The judge leaned forward as he spoke, his eyes narrowed as he looked down at the witness. A pained expression passed across Anna’s face as she fought to maintain her composure.

The prosecutor turned back to Anna. Ms. Kayce, once again I'm asking you to tell us where you first met the senator.

I-I-I think it was at a party. Her voice quivered, and she hated herself for this loss of control.

Was this party at the senator's home here in Daylan or his home in Washington, D.C.?

No, it was at someone else's home here in Daylan.

Did you contact the senator after the party and encourage the continuation of this new found friendship?

Anna jerked her head up, eyes wide and blazing. No! He's the one who called me first.

And when he called, just what did he say?

He said a mutual friend of ours had told him of my financial situation, and he wanted to propose a business arrangement that would be beneficial to both of us. His words, not mine.

You told him about your financial problems, is that correct?

Yes, she said in a low voice.

Did you do this in hopes of getting some financial help from him or just to make conversation?

No, I didn’t expect financial help.  We were just talking, and it came up.

I see. A faint hint of sarcasm tainted his voice. You told him about losing your business, didn’t you?

She looked at him with red, moist eyes.  I lost more than just my business.

Oh?

I lost everything I had.  My business, my apartment, my car.  I had no money in my checking account.  Nada, zilch.  There wasn’t even enough to get anything to eat.  I was totally destitute.

Go on.

My parents were dead, my sister was in her final year at college. She had no money to help, not even an apartment to share. My Dad died of cancer, but he ran up a lot of medical bills before he died. Insurance didn’t pay them all, so I had hospital bills coming out of my ears. Mom lived for a year after Dad’s death. She just seemed to fade away.  She had no idea how to pay the bills. Dad always did that, so I had to take care of all the financial things for her. She squeezed her eyes closed, causing a tear to tumble down her cheek.  I know you can’t understand how it was for me, but I was destitute and desperate.  The senator’s proposal was my lifesaver.  I felt I had no choice but to accept it. She raised a trembling hand to wipe away the tear.

"Exactly what was this beneficial business arrangement?" The prosecutor waited for her to answer while a tense silence lay heavy over the room.

Her eyes glared with anger as she looked first at the prosecutor, swung her gaze to the jury, then toward the judge.

Okay, the prosecutor said, "let me rephrase that. Did you have an affair with the senator as a result of this ... arrangement?"

An affair? Not exactly. Her insides tightened into knots, but her hands lay still in her lap. She managed with difficulty to keep her voice steady.

What do you mean not exactly? Either you did, or you didn't.

You don't — can't understand.

I see. Then once again let me rephrase. Did you have an intimate relationship with the senator? He walked closer to her and positioned himself with his back to the courtroom but where she would be in full view of the jury.

Be careful, don't trust him. Uh ... She heard the slight quiver in her voice. Yes. The slight upward curve of his mouth was the only indication that he noticed her nervousness.

She followed his slow deliberate strides to the jury box where he faced the jurors, his forefinger tapping his chin. The silent, suffocating tension built around her. She waited.

Did you love him? He said in a low voice, his back still toward her.

What? Her brows drew together in puzzled disbelief.

He turned slowly and looked at her with narrowed eyes. I asked you if you loved the senator. Actually, Ms. Kayce —

Anna, she said, please, call me Anna. She was tired of his formality, but more than anything she wanted this nightmare to end.

Actually, it was a business arrangement. Isn't that correct?

You don’t understand, she said, anger edging her voice.

Your Honor. Defense Attorney Larry Davis rose from his chair, stretching his body to its full height of six feet and three inches. I realize this is the prosecutor's own witness, but please, let the witness answer one question before another is asked.

Yes, Counselor, I agree. The judge said. Objection sustained.

Did you love him? The prosecutor asked again.

I-I did at one time — at the beginning.

But it was a business arrangement, was it not?

If you insist on calling it that, yes.

Just a yes or no, please.

Yes.

Was the senator married at the time you first met him? he asked.

He told me he was divorced, but I found out later it was not final.

So technically he was still married at the time you began this business arrangement.

Since this was not a question, Anna chose not to answer.

Did this not matter to you? His voice was gentle, but his eyes coldly held hers.

Yes, technically he was still married, but the marriage was finished. It was just a matter of getting the paperwork done. So, no, it really didn't bother me since I had no intention of marrying him.

The prosecutor lowered his eyes, and Anna waited patiently. The silence lengthened. After a few moments, he looked up and said, Do you know the defendant, Detective John Mentz?

John? Yes, I know him.

You had an affair with him, did you not?

Anna blinked and averted her gaze. We had a relationship.

A relationship? One that was not a business arrangement? The prosecutor glanced toward the jury, a small smile conveying confidence his point was made.

Yes. Her voice was low but well heard.

You were present when the senator was murdered, were you not?

Her mouth opened but closed without saying anything. She knew the direction his questioning was going and dreaded it.

Weren't you, Ms. Kayce? The prosecutor became more insistent.

Yes, I was.

And you saw Detective Mentz kill the senator. Is that correct?

No! I did not. Her answer was quick, her voice louder, more confident.

Are you sure about that? He confessed to killing the senator, and you admit to being present at the time. Be very sure, Ms. Kayce, before you answer.

She stared at the prosecutor, her look deliberate, unmoving. Her hands trembled in her lap, but she held her head high, chin defiantly uplifted. I must face my demons ... and my enemies. I must!

After a few moments, the judge leaned forward and looked down at Anna. Answer the question, please, he instructed.

Anna acknowledged the judge's command but kept her gaze locked on the prosecutor. He was the first to shift his eyes from her defiant stare. Turning his back to her, he walked to the prosecutor's table.

No. Her voice cut through the tense silence. I did not see John kill Ken.

The prosecutor stopped mid-stride and paused before slowly turning around to face her.

Who killed him, Ms. Kayce?

Anna struggled to sit up straighter and turned her gaze toward the jurors, her eyes wide and moist. She could feel the tense expectation in the air, and she knew they wanted – no expected to hear who the murderer was. In a quivery voice, she said, I honestly don't know.

Who held the gun?

She pressed her lips together before her low voice said, I did.

A low murmur and the shuffling of feet broke the tense silence of the courtroom.

"We will have order in this court!" The judge half rose from his chair, pounding his gavel repeatedly.

The prosecutor's long, quick strides brought him close to her, and, hands on the banister, he leaned forward. She could feel his breath on her, could smell the sweet cologne he wore. A nauseated, sinking feeling came over her, and she struggled to control it.

Please, God, let this end soon.

Detective Mentz said he was the one holding the gun when it went off. He supposedly took it from you. So, Anna, you were there. You claim to be holding the gun at the time it discharged. Just who did kill him, Anna? I think you know, so tell us. Who? His words cracked through the whispered mutterings, and the room filled with taut silence.

Anna shook her head; her hand clenched the glove she held. The red lipstick glared against the paleness of her skin, and her body shrunk into the chair.

He leaned closer, his face only inches from hers.

Anna, tell us what happened that night. Tell us the truth.

Chapter 2

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 2000

The telephone rang several times. Just as Anna was about to hang up, there was the click of the receiver being lifted.

Hi, she said.

Well, hello. Senator Kenneth Levall’s voice changed from cold terseness to a more welcoming, warm tone when he heard her voice.

Are you busy?

Yes, but I have a moment for you.

I was just thinking about you.

Mmmm, I like that.

She gave a soft inviting laugh. I bet I know what you’d like even better.

I have a feeling you’d be right.

Will I see you tonight?

I have to work late tonight, but I don’t think there’ll be a problem coming by to see you.

Good.

I’ll be there around nine. A martini waiting for me when I get there would be nice.

You’ll have it.

Okay, see you then.

Anna hung up the phone, picked up her purse and jacket,